by Sarah Earlene Shere, ©2023
(Aug. 18, 2023) — [Read earlier segments of this story here and here.]
A hush fell over the ballroom as a stranger appeared at the top of the grand staircase. Announced as “Lord Spurious,” the magnificently attired gentleman left no doubt in the minds of the partygoers that he was a man born for palace surroundings. His costly lace and elaborately embroidered silk garments shimmered with shades of blue and silver in the light of the candles.
Amidst whispered questions and speculations, the lord approached the thrones of the king and Princess Charmaine. While everyone saw the graceful form of Lord Spurious give a deep bow, they could not see Cinderelian inside the impressive exterior. His heart beat hard and his knees shook as he removed his gloves, took the delicate, outstretched hand of the princess and kissed it in greeting.
Princess Charmaine was little impressed by grandiose show, but she felt her heart skip a beat when she looked into the gentleman’s deep blue eyes and saw something familiar, something that gave her a sense of safety and comfort. Most willingly, she accepted the request of a waltz, and did not hesitate when their dancing naturally took them out of the stuffy hall and into the cool, starry night.
Of what shall I tell you about their interaction as they strolled amongst the gardens? Their hearts opened easily with one another. They spoke first of the beauty of the night, then soon fell into dialogue about the stars and wishes upon such, which naturally led to conversation about hopes and dreams.
Like the needle and thread Elian was so used to using to pull fabric together in his trade as the tailor’s apprentice, the young man felt his and the princess’ heart being drawn close and sealed with a strong, unbreakable cord.
But the striking of the hour from the village clock tower awakened Elian from his dreamlike state. It was turning midnight, and, at the final strike of the bell, he would be reduced to the rags of his low position.
With deep apologies, Lord Spurious took his leave of the princess, made haste through the garden, through the maze of dancers in the ballroom, up the grand staircase and out of the palace, with the sounding of the clock echoing in his ears.
When Elian arrived at the place where he had left his impressive golden carriage, pulled by four white horses, he found only a wooden bowl, with four white mice running away, and his marmalade cat sitting there, staring at him with narrowed eyes and a snapping tail. The now poorly dressed young man bent down and scooped up his cat into his arms, “Don’t look at me like that, Percy. I know you warned me. I made it, didn’t I?” It was then that Elian noticed his hand as it stroked the cat. One glove had not disappeared with the magic. He recalled how he had talked to Princess Charmaine about his beautifully unique gloves and had given her one to admire. He smiled toward the castle, as he assumed she still had that glove. “Keep it, sweet lady, and remember me and this night with fondness, as I always will!”